Maskhunter Saga Book 1: The Last Outlaw
by imback357
Summary: Mindy and Dave have lost everything save for each other and the undying drive to keep fighting for "The Mission". But there's trouble. Namely, the strongly enforced law banning 'masks', and the people known as 'maskhunters'. Mostly the maskhunters. Which leaves the question, who's The Last Outlaw? : Chugging along though I'm having difficulties. Spoiler in this space when it's up.
1. The lights in their eyes

**Mask Hunters Book 1: The Last Outlaw**

**Chapter 1**

xXx

**Mindy**

Two years. Roughly one-seventh of my life. Should have been out of police custody within two weeks. Actually slipped out after six; got caught. Fucking media circus caught me. I was the story of the year. Figures, they needed something to latch on to after Osama. "Clinically insane twelve year-old vigilante caught in a New York riot of 'masks'". Headline that won the fucking Pulitzer.

Under any other circumstance, my escape attempt would probably have had another couple years added to a jail sentence. Too bad I'm a minor - a clinically insane minor at that - and everyone knew it, so I got tighter security and that was it. Thanks, media circus. Feel free to shove my gratitude where the sun don't shine, fuckers.

As it was, they sent me here. Jerkum asylum for limpbrains, or something. Loony bins are notoriously boring. Also, the people here are paranoid; it took me two months to try and plot an escape, got nothing for my trouble. They got this place locked up tight, so I did what I could; I hunkered down and got ready to bide my time.

One doesn't stop being a superhero. Not if they take your costume, your 'toys' and lock down your hideouts. Not if they drag you away from the people you work with or the public you serve. Not if they rip away the veils of secrecy you built around yourself and parade your secret identity to the public. Not if they take away the people you care for and lock you in a nut hatch somewhere.

Marcus and my mother weren't as lucky as I was. They're... gone. That's the last outside news I know of. I don't know what it is, everyone who cared for me, or I care for, die. First, daddy, now them. So one way or the other, I have to get out.

Because the reason I'm here, the reason I gave up my freedom, is out there. New York can burn itself to the ground, and Genovese can go choke on a dick, but I know Dave's out there. He better be, goddamn it. Because I'm coming back.

**Dave**

Two years. More or less. Everyone's gone. Todd and Marty, Katie, most of Justice Forever, too. Can't really blame them, either. This place, it's gotten worse, if one could believe that. Sometimes I get it in my head I was the straw that broke the camel's back.

Those times are the worst. Being alone, having to constantly look over my shoulder, those I could stand. The idea that what I started was the first domino that led to this... that thought, I can't handle. I can't handle the dreams where my father asked me what he did wrong.

I'd like to tell him it wasn't his fault. I'd like to apologize. But I can't. Instead, I go on. I go on the only way I know how. I might have been weak, and petty and a million other things beside. But I'm a superhero... aren't I?

I've thought of quitting, many times before. I almost did. Sometimes I tell myself I should have. But I can't quit. I refuse. Not yet. Not until I see Mindy again; until I can tell her I'm sorry for dragging her down.

xXx

Kick-ass stalked the alley, batons in hand. It was dark, as it was most of the time. He was no longer welcome on the streets; none of the 'masks' were. After they caught Hit-girl, they made it illegal to dress up in a mask and cape, even in Halloween. Superheroes had a choice of quitting or moving away to where the chances of capture were lower. Criminals just took off their costumes and resumed their business.

It had been years since he'd had Mindy training him. Thankfully, he'd grown a bit so he cut a more intimidating figure, or so he thought, in the dark. On the other hand, he'd outgrown his old costume. That was the time he had to seriously debate with himself if it was worth it to go on. He had little in the way of income, and he couldn't get anything delivered directly, which meant spending more to get it delivered from an anonymous site.

Well, here he was, in his new costume, trying not to step on anything that would make too much noise, squinting in the faint light. So far, nothing. Most nights, there was nothing, anyway. Then a squeal, a grunt, and before he knew it, hell broke loose.

Rats scattered from a nearby trash bin, one rebounding off his boot. Then someone was bowling into him. Kick-ass remained upright, while the man stumbled, caught himself and scrambled away. Barks, growing in volume, followed.

Kick-ass sprang to action, running after the man who had bumped into him. He had gotten faster - not that the man he was chasing was fast, to begin with - and he caught up with ease. The man was within arm's reach when something crashed on his back. Kick-ass found himself kissing pavement, his ribs straining as he was winded from the impact. "We got him!" a man's voice called out.

Kick-ass tried to struggle to his feet. Ahead of him, just slightly out of focus, a big, burly man was bent over the man he had just been chasing - and helping him up. Hearing alarm bells in his head, he felt around for his baton with one hand while trying to push himself up with another.

His hand closed on his baton, but before he can move another muscle, he heard that deep, threatening growl of the dog behind him. He hesitated, and before he can get the half-second back, a boot descended on his hand. It didn't stamp down or ground on his hand like villains do to heroes clinging to a cliff. It was just there, poised, waiting for him to move. So Kick-ass didn't move his hand. Instead, he raised his head, and saw a phantom.

Two eyes, shining in the darkness. He could see neither face nor silhouette. Just two disembodied, shining eyes in the darkness. His first, irrational thought - as would any self-confessed nerd's - was "WHITE WALKER!". Then his rational mind set in. The dog was faster. By the time Dave had turned back to Kick-ass, it was halfway to the mysterious figure.

'AOUU!' the dog cried out as something hit it and sent its head crashing onto the wall of the tight alley. It tried to get back up, whining weakly, but its head was hit again. This time, the dog stayed still after its head bounced off the wall. The big man rushed into the shadows.

"Who the hell are you?!" cried the man Kick-ass was chasing just moments ago. He was inching back, apparently forgetting the fallen hero lying face down just behind him. He stopped in shock as the man who had helped him up was beaten to a pulp by whoever, or whatever, was hidden by the shadows.

The man's face whipped to the right. His right knee buckled. Then he made a choked, gurgling sound as he went down, convulsing weakly, hands clawing at his throat. The creepy-eyed figure skipped past him, coming into the light slowly, and Kick-ass' eyes widened.

It was a kid. Well, mid-teens, maybe, depending on how much of his - or was it her - height was the costume. The kid was wearing a thick, dark-grey jacket that almost reached his knees, the hood covering his face in shadow. His pants were the same shade of grey, scuffed black boots completing the ensemble. He was holding two sticks. Not batons like Kick-ass'. More akin to those short sticks in kung-fu movies, polished wood a foot and a half long each.

The kid's eerie, impossibly-silver eyes flicked to the man who had resumed inching back. The haunting stare dismissed the man as Kick-ass felt the boot leave his hand. The person who had pinned down Kick-ass was a woman, he saw in shame, and she flicked a switchblade open as she approached the kid .

The kid crossed the sticks just in front of his knees, waiting for the woman to come to him. She did, holding out the knife cautiously in front of her. "Come on! We can take him! He's just a kid!" she hissed to the cowardly man.

Dave, who had seen 'a kid' do things he'd only seen in Punisher comics, privately disagreed with her, but wasn't about to wait around in any case. He grabbed his baton tightly and pushed himself up to his feet, hoping the one baton would be enough.

It was. The coward took one hit - to a forearm he'd put up defensively - and passed out. Kick-ass, who's seen some dastardly tricks through the years, tapped him with the tip of one boot, but the man didn't stir.

When he turned back, the woman was in a heap by the kid's feet. The kid looked at him, eyes flicking down. Kick-ass felt a chill race down his spine; he was being appraised, sized, measured for combat. He knew he probably didn't look much the superhero after being taken down, losing one weapon, and getting pinned down by a woman. Where is Mindy when you need her?

**End of Chapter 1**


	2. Mindy waltzes out of the cuckoo's nest

**Chapter 2**

xXx

**Mindy**

Don't believe all those movies or TV shows or comics or whatever. Loony bins are nothing like prison. I've gotten in and out of one before, but never in my wildest dream did I even consider a loony bin. I mean, I'm Hit-girl, not the Joker.

First up, the good news. Here, the other, uh, patients don't want to shiv you over a pill mixup or someone saying something crazy about them. In fact, they're content to leave each other - and me - alone. Also, there is literally zero chance of one escaping his or her cell at night and killing the ever loving shit out of everyone, much to my dismay.

Now, the cons. First, no exercise equipment. Oh, we do some little exercises once in a while, because, y'know, sound mind, sound body. Also, everything is regulated. I can't just up and stiff someone who has a piece of metal I can sharpen, because no one has a piece of metal here.

I eventually got around the lack of exercise by improvisation. I mean, I can do pushups and situps on my bed, just as long as they don't catch me, or else I'm wearing the straitjacket and spending a week in a padded cell, and that's counterproductive to the whole idea. Everything else will have to wait until I get out.

Most days, I spend making sure I really don't go loony tunes in here. Sure, har de har har, the irony is funny, but the psychiatrists actually call this progress. I can cover the walls with crayon drawings of a purple figure beheading, dismembering and basically really fucking up people dressed in white and they are fascinated by that shit. I think they're the ones who are crazy.

Of course, none of this means a damn thing if I can't get out, and I'd already proven that I can't. So, instead, I'm doing something else. I'll get someone to break in, shove a scalpel through their eye sockets as gratitude, and waltz on out of here. Fuck, I can smell the rank, New York air already.

xXx

"Are you really Kick-ass?" the kid asked him.  
"Wait, what?!" Kick-ass asks back.  
"If this is some kind of comic book trap, I swear I'll make you regret it," the kid growls. He crosses the sticks again, eyes trained on Kick-ass.  
"Whoa. Hey, man, I don't even know who you are. I'm Kick-ass ok? I mean, only a crazy man would admit to that in this city."  
The kid looked him over again and finally relaxed. "Ok, I believe you. You have time to talk?"  
"Yeah, sure, just, uh, let me find where my other baton flew off to."

Ten minutes later, the two are looking down the mostly empty streets from a laundromat's rooftop. Kick-ass sat down with a sigh, hands covering his face as he leaned back. The kid, who had stowed his sticks away into the overly-long sleeves of his oversized jacket, chose to lean against the door instead.

"Thanks for the save back there. Man, I'll never live this down. What do you call yourself, by the way?" Kick-ass asked him.  
"I'm The Last Outlaw, or TLO for short, and don't let that bother you. I heard barking and went to investigate. If I had gone in before you, I probably would have fallen for it, too and you would have had to save me."  
"Yeah, but still. When you arrived at the end of that alley, I thought you weren't even human. Those three lowlifes forgot about me."  
"It's the eyes. Can't hurt to have a psychological advantage."  
"Yeah, I suppose," Dave replied, thinking of Batman's bat symbol, or the Punisher's skull T shirt. "Isn't that risky, though?"  
TLO chuckled. "I suppose, but I'm quite short, so between that initial shock and the time it takes to readjust their aim, I can always duck out of sight."  
"You've given this a lot of thought."  
"Well, I've had a lot of time to think while you guys were already doing it."  
"I'm not all that, really."  
TLO chuckled. "Most of us aren't."  
Dave privately agreed. He remembered his first meeting - if you can call it that - with Hit-girl and Big Daddy. Now, those guys knew what they were doing. That train of thought ended up in misery, though, so he forced his mind back to the present. "So, what was it you wanted to talk about?"  
"Where's Hit-girl?"  
Dave felt as though he was physically hit. "What?" he managed.  
"Sorry. Could have phrased that better, I suppose. I mean, why isn't she with you tonight?"  
"You saw in the news right? They locked her up in an asylum."  
"Yeah, but I figured she'd, I dunno, escape."  
Dave shook his head. "She would've found me by now."  
"Oh. Well, you have a plan to get her out, right? I'll help."  
Dave groaned, burying his face in his hands. "No. I... I'm useless."  
At that, TLO sat down beside Kick-ass. "Hey, don't sell yourself short. You're waiting for her while everyone has almost forgotten she even existed. That's something."  
"I suppose. Why are you looking for her, anyway?"  
"Not just her, Kick-ass. Both of you. Anyway, I figured she'd want to try and uncover who's behind all these maskhunters lately."  
"Wait, maskhunters?"

xXx

**Mindy**

Well, that was easy. Too easy, even, but hey, if it means getting out of a loony bin, I won't look even a half-rotted gift horse in the mouth. At least not as closely as usual. Too bad the gooks sent to get me blew all their explosives on the front door. They had to scare the orderlies with itty-bitty knives to unlock my cell.

They weren't much trouble, but their lack of firearms is disturbing. Ok, I might have gone a little overboard with trying to appear off my fucking rocker when I lured them in, but three guys with knives? Urgh. I didn't have much time to search for anything better, either. The explosion that caved the door in meant the police would be descending on my position. I filled three 20 cc syringes with tranqs, took two scalpels, and waltzed on out of there.

Ah, sweet freedom. NY, Dave, whoever the fuck else is left... I'm coming home.

**End of Chapter 2**

* * *

_Author's Note:  
_

_So, I, uh, forgot to insert an Author's Note for Chapter 1. Didn't wanna mess around with it, so here's a double-sized A.N. This chapter's 500 words shorter than the first one, anyway. Let's pad it a little, huh?_

_Here goes. This is my first fan fic. All my other fiction up to now is original [and not quite as good as I want them to be; but still 'good']. So, please forgive me my small problems. Anyway, this is set mostly in the comic book version of KA, though they might make some sneaky [or not so sneaky] references to their movie counterparts. To be precise, 2 years [more or less] after that downer of an ending. And yes, the HG miniseries is accounted for, too. Might have picked up on Mindy mentioning offhand that she'd gotten in and out of a prison, which she did in HG #5._

_Anyway, this story might sometime in future chapters [or the planned sequels] toe that thin line between M and MA. Let me just say, this is a Kick-Ass fan fic, and I'll try to write it as such._

_Also, yes, TLO is an OC. I'll try not to 'Mary Sue' him, but given that I'm writing about Dave and Mindy having had basically 2 years of downtime in comparison to the newbie who apparently knows what he's doing, I hope you'll give me some wiggle room here. It's essential to the character and how I plan to integrate him into the story._

_Also, I'm afraid I might do more Mindy monologue scenes than Dave's, because I'm a Hit-Girl fan boy. Also, I like Mindy's little diary entries and such throughout the comics. I dialed down the profanity, though, because, erm, Mindy's 14 in-story and she's found other ways of expressing herself. It's still there, especially in mid-fight banter later on, but not as pronounced._

_Hm, this AN has gone on awhile. Good thing I put it at the end. That's where they'll all be in the future [so you can skip them if you so wish], promise._

_PS_

_Oh, um, I'll try to consolidate an update sched soon-ish. Well into Chapter 3 by now, so we'll see. Also, um, reviews, please? TLO's glow in the dark eyes compel yoooouuu..._

_Pre-posting Post Script_

_Posted Ch. 1 on the 23rd... 25th here now, so here's chapter 2... Might not have internet for foreseeable future [week or so] so better release it now than make a mess of it, yeah?_


	3. Click clack, Mindy's back

**Chapter 3**

xXx

"What, aside from those lowlifes just now, you've never met any maskhunters?" TLO asked Kick-ass, incredulous.

"Well, uh... What are maskhunters?"

TLO sighed. "Ok, where on your head does it hurt?"

"Dude, I'm serious, ok? If there's anyone out there trying to, I dunno, pwn my head, maybe, I'd like to know."

"Right, ok... Well, you're not so far off. Maskhunters are basically thugs hired to hunt 'masks' like us. Like headhunters, but with a snazzier name, you could say. There are less and less of us, but somehow, their numbers are getting higher, their methods getting more sophisticated."

"That... makes no sense."

"No. No, it doesn't. And that's why we need to find out how and why this is happening. Or else you'll be found hanging on the flagpole in front of the mayor's office. No-name like me'd probably have to make do with the bottom of the Hudson."

"Don't talk like that, man. That's sick."

TLO shook his head. "Yeah. Sorry. Well, I'll be in touch. It was nice meeting you, Kick-ass."

"Yeah. You too. I'll, uh, see you around." The two shook hands and went their separate ways.

xXx

**Mindy**

Had to visit daddy. The caretaker of the cemetery wouldn't like what he'll find come daylight, but, hey, that's his problem. I promised myself I wouldn't cry. Should have known better. Daddy will let it slide this once, I hope.

News hadn't broken out. I suppose it never will. Not until Hit-girl is publicly seen, anyway. Would probably take several verifiable sightings before they stop denying the fact that I'm out. Meanwhile, I'll enjoy seeing them squirm. Fucking media circus, let's see how they like it.

If I had any tears left to shed, I would've cried a little for journalism. 17 dead that I knew of, an asylum broken into, a clinically-insane, mass-murdering teenager on the loose... and the citizens of New York will not hear, or read a thing about it. They'll sleep tight not knowing. They might even have bought into the lies and think I am their enemy. Well, so be it.

I look at the watch I stole from an orderly; I kept it in a pocket because it's too big to fit my wrist. The LED read 3:16. I stuff it back in the pocket, and headed... home. The whole city's my home now.

Come dark, I'll be on the prowl. At last, Hit-girl again.

xXx

Kick-ass had the distinct feeling that he was being followed. At first, he'd attributed it to paranoia fueled by his little talk with TLO. An hour into his patrol, he almost headed back home. Then images of home - what used to be home - flashed in his head and for a while that silenced the little alarm bells in his head.

Now, halfway through his patrol and in a shady - but thankfully empty - part of the city, he cursed himself for not heading home. The feeling hadn't left him at all. Cursing his luck, Kick-ass sought shelter under a light overhead.

First deep breath. 'Okay, nothing is going to happen.'

Second deep breath. 'Okay, relax... Nothing is going to happen.'

Third deep breath. ' Okay... What fuck?!'

Kick-ass nearly jumped out of his wetsuit as the light above him turned off, flickered on, then back off... then turned back on again. He stared at the bare bulb a little longer, breathing heavily. His eyes swung down, and found a glowing silver pair of eyes boring right into them.

"HOLY FUCK!" he screamed. Suddenly, he'd jumped back half a foot, his batons held out ahead of him, ready to strike. But it was only TLO, of course.

"Sorry. Didn't want to startle you after the light did that flickering thing. Great reflexes, by the way."

Kick-ass stowed his batons back, bent over slightly as he fought for breath. "Thanks. I, uh, I thought someone was following me. I'm just a little on edge."

"Was I too obvious? Hmm, well, I wasn't trained for a city like this, I suppose... Well, anyway, you picked a good rendezvous point."

"No, I just really needed a breather. So, what's happening with that..." Kick-ass trailed off. That nagging feeling had in fact not left him.

"You in the Eskimo costume, freeze. Kick-ass, you -"

"Mindy!" Kick-ass blurted out.

Hit-girl sighed. "As I was saying, **Dave**, step away from the Eskimo." She motioned him away with the gun on her right hand. The left was trained at the back of TLO's head.

"Whoa, wait, he's with me. When'd you get out?"

Hit-girl looked at him. "We'll talk later. You, lower the hood, keep your hands up, and show me your face."

TLO did as asked. Beneath the shadows of his hood, his face was decidedly nondescript. His skin was light-brown, his hair a deep, jet black. Only his eyes stood out. He was also really young, about 15 or 16.

"Who are you?" Hit-girl, who had retreated back to the shadows, only her guns showing, asked.

"I call myself The Last Outlaw. TLO, for short."

"Name, asshole. Chalk it up to Dave's incompetence. You know my name, I know yours; quid pro quo."

"The name's John Michael. At least it is in English. My mother had it changed."

"Not from around here?"

"No ma'am."

"The name Genovese mean anything to you?"

"Aside from the fact you wiped them out? No."

"Dave, if this fur-cloaked weirdo you got with you is Red Mist two-point-oh, you, me and some fucking pliers are gonna have a long, torturous talk about trusting people."

Kick-ass gulped. "Um, Justice Forever helped us a lot the last time, didn't they?"

Hit-girl sighed. She re-holstered her guns ."Fair enough. You have somewhere we can catch up?"

Kick-ass nodded. "Yeah. I think we can find a place."

"Well, lead the way."

xXx

**Dave**

Mindy. Is. Back. I'm... I'm still getting over the initial shock. I mean, I hoped she'd get out or something, but, you know, it's been two years. She just now got out and, well, found me. Me. Okay, there's no one else left, really, but still.

First things first. Mindy herself is, uh, different. She seems unhurt from what I've seen, but she's not in the shape she used to be; but she's doing better than what you'd expect for someone institutionalized for the past two years. She seems to be moving a little jerkily, but that's probably the costume that's two sizes too small. She's grown quite a bit in two years.

Of course, the way she moves? The way she talks? The way she had the two of us at gunpoint even when we both should have known someone was there? That level of casualness? Good old Mindy.

Or at least I hope it's the good old Mindy I used to know. Two years of solitude, of doing pretty much nothing but waiting? Two years of not knowing anything and having to learn all of it in one go without the time to deal with all that's gone on? Going back to the home she knew that's largely forgotten all she sacrificed for it? No, I don't think she can cope with all that at once.

I had two years to deal with all that, and look at me. I'm a wreck. But I'm still the only wreck Mindy can crash into and know it'll hold her. Or at least try. I owe her that much. Not just for saving me, but... Well, okay, for saving me. Not saving my life, just saving me; showing me why I do this. I can't quit until she does. And she never will.

So if either of us is to stand a chance at doing this again, I'm going to have to get back the old Mindy. That, or die trying.

xXx

Mindy had told TLO none too kindly to peel off, and when he did, she made Dave take a slight detour before they head off. After picking up a bag full of what Dave can only guess was more guns and ammo, they headed off.

Dave's 'pad' was an apartment. It was cheap, the landlord didn't ask any questions as long as the rent is paid, and the other inhabitants largely left Dave alone. At half past two in the morning, they had no trouble getting in unseen.

Mindy laid down on the sofa - there was only one - and dropped the bag on the floor beside her as she stretched. Dave tried not to stare as he headed to get a chair from the corner he used as a kitchen. As he set the chair beside the sofa, Mindy was already taking her mask off.

"Hey," he greeted her, unsure what to say.

"Hey yourself, fuckstick. Since when do we reveal our identities to others like that?" she asked him with a scathing look as she sat back up.

"Hey, I was just happy to see you. I mean, you were the last person I expected to be standing right then and there."

"Who were you expecting, then? Some more friends of yours?"

Dave hesitated. "Um, well... Let's talk about that later, ok? How'd you get out?"

"I tricked some schmucks into breaking in, killed 'em. They had a little too much fun blowing the doors off and carving the orderlies to make a point. Guess they thought that'd scare me. Anyway, I sat tight 'til they opened my cell and, well, I let out some frustration."

Dave couldn't help but grin. "So this stuff, where'd you get them? I mean, the police, they raided all your hideouts."

Dave could see a flash of anger cross Mindy eyes as she replied. "Daddy, he was... well, paranoid, you might say, but he loved me. When he died, he was buried in this coffin with a hidden cache of guns, some cash and my costume in it. Strictly for emergency purposes." Mindy closed her eyes. "Also, the coffin's made to be untraceable. From the moment I cracked it open, it would burn itself within an hour... with my dad's remains in it. I learned all of this after he died, in a letter I found when I was packing his things away."

Dave nodded, silent. That seemed something Damon would do. "I'm sorry."

Mindy chuckled darkly. "I'm not. I had to, Dave. I had no choice. Daddy knew what he was doing. Not using his final sacrifice and placing myself in danger would've been an insult to him." She chuckled again. "Well, my costume barely fits anymore, though."

"Um, yeah. You have a change of clothes?"

"Aside from the ones I wore in the loony bin? No."

"Well, uh, I suppose some of my old stuff will fit you."

Mindy nodded as Dave went off to find something. She reached down, placed the bag on her lap and opened it. Inside is the empty metal case that contained her guns and pockets for spare clips, fully loaded. The spare ammo was still in boxes, taped close. A big pocket that hours ago contained her costume - vacuum-wrapped in plastic - stood empty on the other side. Beside it were rows of pouches for her knives. She unloaded her guns, double-checked them, and placed them back inside the metal case. Then she stowed away every knife but one, then thought better of it and kept two knives with her.

By the time Dave had come back with a sparse collection of clothes, Mindy had closed the bag, slid it under the sofa, and started to take off her gloves and boots. "Don't sit there," she advised him as he made to site beside her.

"What? Why?"

"There's a knife under the cushion."

"Point up?" he asked, incredulous.

"Of course not point up, doofus. The point is, you don't sit on top of a concealed knife because it makes it harder to pull it out in a hurry."

Dave almost facepalmed "I see. Um, so is it... blue or red?" he asked, holding up the clothes.

Mindy rolled her eyes. "Whatever." She grabbed the clothes, went to the room Dave flicked his thumb toward, and started to change. "So, what's been happening?"

Dave, who had gone back to the chair, sighed. "Well, firs thing is... everyone's gone. I really don't want to be the one to tell you this but, Marcus and your mother -"

"I already know, Dave," Mindy cut in a she came back out. "That was the last real piece of news I had."

Dave nodded. "Well, after that, they kind of made it out like we'd wanted it to happen. To, um, get our own twisted version of validation by trying to save New York from 'others like us'. Then we got outlawed."

Mindy scoffed as she experimentally pulled out a knife she'd hidden on the shirt's sleeve. "Guess the local politicians' rating shot through the roof, huh?"

"Yeah. Yeah, they did. Had a grand old speech and everything. Oh, and that guy you almost hit, Gigante? He was named leader of the task force to enforce the newly-passed law; was hailed a hero and everything. First thing they did was made sure they distanced the whole department from Marcus."

Mindy's eyes narrowed at that. "That part got past me. So what happened to all those guys they arrested?"

"The luckier ones got five years in minimum security. The not-so-lucky ones got life in maximum security. The really unlucky ones got killed as soon as they set a foot in prison. It wasn't pretty."

"So there are no more superheroes in the city?"

"Well, none who are public anyway. There's you, me, and TLO that I know for sure. Everyone's really keeping a low profile. The last 'mask' they caught got life in maximum security for basically nothing. 'Life' didn't turn out to be too long; guy got mobbed two days in. After that, no one was willing to risk it."

"We have to talk about your friend later. You were saying something earlier about expecting someone else."

"Right. Figured you'd get to that eventually. Well, there's uh, people hunting us. Whatever remains of us. They call themselves 'maskhunters'."

"Why?"

"I... I don't know."

"Makes no sense. Why hunt where there's nothing left to hunt?" Mindy, who was looking at the way light rippled off the knife's edge, smiled. "I think I have an idea."

"You do?"

"Dave, I did something back in the loony bin to catch someone's attention. I didn't care who it was, as as long as they open the doors for me. And someone took that bait, when everyone else has forgotten about me. But they didn't send anyone good. No, they wanted me out just as much as I wanted me out."

"You think..?"

"Yeah. Someone's got it into his head that he can take on the big game." She smiled again. "Well, maybe I'll shove a scalpel up his eye socket, too, right after I thank him for letting me out."

"Yeah, but we're kind of in a disadvantage here. We can't just hit these guys like we did the mafia. We don't even know who started this."

"Well, let's start by doing what we were doing before, then; we hit the criminal scum, that should drive them up a wall. Then we work our way up both the criminal and the maskhunter hierarchies. Sound like a plan?"

Dave grinned. This was the good old Mindy. "Yeah."

Mindy smiled. "Cool. But, uh, let's start tomorrow, ok? I've just... I've been on the run since the other night and I'm not in any shape to start right now..."

Dave smiled. "Sure. Um, my bedroom's a little messy but..."

"Are you serious? Shit, I'm not sleeping in your room, Dave, let alone your bed. I'll be fine here."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. I'm Mindy, aren't I?" And with that, her eyes closed.

Dave had to agree. Yes, she was Mindy.

**End of Chapter 3**

* * *

_Author's Note:_

_This is a rather long chapter, compared to the first two. I felt I needed to expand and explain a little more. Plus, this is when Mindy gets back, so why the hell not? Um, yeah, it's still blocks of convo, but the action is coming soon-ish [as far as my plans go, anyway]._

_Speaking of Mindy. Her escape will forever stay a 'noodle incident' [look it up]. But, hey, if she can bluff a roomful of armed men into blind panic while she's surrounded [albeit with explosives], what's to say she can't catch someone's attention from a loony bin? Especially if someone's already watching, anyway._

_More Dave monologues and stuff in the next chapters [along with Mindy's]. So while neither of them are really 100% ok just yet, at least the old duo's back up again [their hideout sucks, though] and really, only a matter of time before they get back up to speed and get up to something. Or, well, before whoever is behind the whole maskhunters business forces their hand. One of the two._

_As for TLO, he'll be along for mostly scouting duties. "But," you ask in confusion, "why then is the whole darn thing named after him?" Well, telling you that would give it away, but let's say things happen off-screen [or off-panel, in comic book terms] too._

_Anyway... Um, even though I've so far updated the story every other day [give or take] I haven't yet consolidated on a realistic update schedule. I'll have to work on it, while trying to make sure I have enough money for internet credits [long story]. That's partly why this chapter's the length it is._

_Hey, whoa, this thing's getting too long. Cheers!_


	4. Plans that go up in smoke

**Chapter 4**

**Dave**

The Good. Mindy's back. I think I went through this already. Yes, there are certain... issues, that we might need to iron out, and obviously the sooner, the better. Still, how can it not be a good thing when the greatest **actual** superhero I, or anyone of our generation, know of, is back to do what she does best?

Hit-girl is like, a legend, in the superhero circles. Sure, the media launched a pretty sizable smear campaign against her, but seriously, it's the media. People live online nowadays, and Hit-girl's still got blogs about her, forums where people argue about the most mundane details of her career. She made purple really, really cool again; it almost made the new black, except, well, you know, black...

The Bad. How do I put this politely? Uh, last night - well, early this morning - Mindy was sobbing. Not full-out crying or wailing or breaking down, but just... sobbing. I... don't really have a clue what to do, or if I can do anything.

The thing is, Mindy doesn't grieve like most people do. I mean, when my dad died, I almost quit. I had just then really understood what kind of grievous danger I put the people around me in. Mindy killed as many of Genovese's men, and then the man himself, after her dad died. This was after she learned the grievous danger her father put her in... for no real reason. That's Mindy; she forges a path through her grief with action. But this time, she was forced to bide her time, go through two years of waiting, with all that grief piled up inside her still. Anyone would break down after that.

The ugly. Neither of us are in the shape we once were. That's number one. We can't expect to move, let alone fight, like we used to. Back then, we'd make time around our boring lives to make sure we were in fighting form. Now, well, we don't really have much in the way of lives, but I have a feeling the excess time will be spent inside our own thoughts.

We're unprepared. That's number two. Mindy's hideouts were raided years ago. I'm hardly able to track down a knife, let alone all those guns and ammo. Mindy's costume doesn't even fit her anymore. We don't have much in the way of money or income either. Hell, I'm actually in debt at the moment. That's how much into the red we are.

The enemies are out there. That's number three. Well, ok, we always had enemies. But no one's really out and out hunted us. Even the law is our enemy now. Add to that, we don't have much in the way of allies. None that Mindy trusts implicitly anyway.

We're doing this anyway. That's the good, the bad and the ugly rolled into one. I almost considered asking Mindy if she'd considered quitting. But then, I'd told her about Gigante and the Maskhunters and, well, there's a knife somewhere under the sofa cushions, but she's got the other one... and I really don't want to piss her off just in case she isn't a morning person.

xXx

Mindy can still jump from one rooftop to another. Dave still can't - or rather, won't - somehow, even though he's grown and his strides have noticeably lengthened. Mindy laughs for a second before telling him it's all in his head. Dave just smiles as he backs away from the edge of the rooftop. They'd tried their luck by practicing with the sun still an hour or so away from setting, though they still duck their heads if a police mobile is seen or heard.

Mindy couldn't really find anything else she might use for a weapon, and didn't want to waste ammo for target practice. Of course, the sound of gunshots would only alert the cops of their presence, in the first place. She had to settle with throwing the knives she shad - all four of them - at makeshift targets until she was satisfied that her skills have not rusted as much as she feared.

Dave just watched her, awkwardly swinging his batons about to make it look like he's at least trying to be productive. When Mindy stowed the knives away for later sharpening, she asked him for a spar, which he declined, not quite in the mood to receive an ass kicking.

When the sun had almost set, the two made their way to a small nook somewhere where Dave surfed the internet. He reasoned that the library was too far, and Mindy just shrugged. After a brief moment of tension as Dave's previous tab was asked for - Mindy paid for it - they set about trying to figure out if they could afford to get her a new costume.

"This thing sucks."

"Yeah, the purple doesn't quite catch your attention."

Mindy glared at Dave for a moment before she turned back to the screen. "Damn it. I'm not wearing a costume that doesn't fucking fit!"

"Well, we don't seem to have much of a choice..."

Mindy frowned. "Did they... did they ever mention what they did to all of Marcus' and my mother's possessions?"

Dave looked at her, eyebrow raised. "Huh? Why, thinking of filing a petition for your inheritance or something?"

"Well, not really... But I had a few things in there..."

Dave looked down at his shoes as he considered his answer. "It... it was looted and burned down before the police could actually get inside it. At least that's what I think happened."

Mindy nodded, got up, and made to leave, slightly dejected. Dave followed her right out.

xXx

They argued incessantly again for a good twenty minutes about the plan. Dave eventually folded again, just as both of them privately predicted. They set out, Dave in his costume, Mindy in clothes they'd bought - and haggled for - a couple days ago. She had all four of her knives somewhere on her; Dave had not asked exactly where on her. The guns they'd stowed in a place Mindy would have easy access to in case something goes wrong.

The plan was started from the ground up a week ago. Dave had studied Mindy while she was casing various areas. She had even gotten a library card, for the hassle-free internet access and the archives of old newspapers kept there. He had gotten a promise out of her not to go too big for their first mission, so at least he had that. Until Mindy told him the plan.

"But... this is crazy!" Dave tried again.

"I've done this before, Dave," Mindy replied, smirking.

"Yeah, but you... you had your father watching over you and all."

"Now I have you to watch over me. What, can't I trust you?"

"That's beside the point..." Dave shook his head, frustrated, and noticed they were not headed off to the target. "Where are we?"

"Here," Mindy said, pointing up.

Dave looked up and saw the bare bulb above his head. This time, it didn't flicker on and off. "Here?"

"Before we do this, I'd like a chat with your friend," Mindy said, nonchalant. She took out the guns and stepped back into the shadows. "Go ahead and signal him or whatever."

Dave, who had made sure he can get to TLO earlier in the week, sighed. He whipped his phone out and sent a quick message. "Why are you hiding there, anyway?"

"Element of surprise. I must be really rusty if you felt me sneak up on you."

Their wait wasn't long. Dave, who was looking around, saw those same trademark glowing eyes from a distance. The effect wasn't quite so jarring this time around, but he thought that must be because he'd gotten used to it.

"Hey," TLO greeted him. "Do I drop my weapons and raise my hands now?

"Uh, no, actually, we just want to talk. Well, she does anyway," Dave replied, nodding somewhere off to where the light didn't reach.

"Hi," TLO said, nodding his head in no particular direction.

"I'll make this quick. Why are you here in New York?"

"I live here. Well, I live here now."

"And before?"

"I lived somewhere across the Pacific."

"Uh-huh... So, how long have you been doing this?"

"A year or so."

"Why'd you start? A year ago, 'masks' were already outlawed."

"I had... personal reasons."

"I see. Anyway, Dave, time's running out. You explain the plan to him, make sure he clears off and gets those maskhunters off our backs. I'll have a look around."

"What? Hey, you didn't say anything about using anyone as bait for -!" Dave was cut short as TLO grabbed his shoulder.

"It's ok. It's what I'm doing at the moment anyway. I'll be happy to help you as much as I can."

"You're spending your nights running away from maskhunters?" Dave asked, flabbergasted.

"I'm trying to catch one, actually. Maybe he'll know something."

"Can you?" Dave asked, agog.

"Who knows?"

"Dave! If you're done in there, we have to go. The police should be done with their rounds for the next two hours," Mindy shouted out from the end of the alley.

"Give me a minute!" Dave shouted back. He began to tell TLO the plan.

xXx

**Mindy**

So here I am, dressed like, well, a girl looking to get into trouble, shall we say? Personally, I'd much rather be in my costume, but daddy obviously never foresaw me having to get to his emergency stash two years after we had my last costume made. Doesn't matter, though. You see, I have done this before.

The plan is simple. I go in, act all lost and kinda confused like some fuckin' country bumpkin took the wrong bus to Las Vegas and ended up here. How the fuck anyone normal would believe that story is beyond me. Key word, normal. Because child molesters ain't normal.

Well, okay, former _alleged_ child molester. The old pedo's a loan shark now. But c'mon, who are we kidding? There's a reason I'm wearing shorts so short I had to be creative where I hide the knives. Anyway, the plan, right?

So, I go in, do my little play-acting, and then Dave comes in. Except, well, the old man will see Kick-ass smashing through a window. That will make him lose focus on the little girl who's suddenly hiding behind him. Too fuckin' bad.

Then, assuming Kick-ass doesn't land in a pile of glass shards or something, we'll give the old fart his just desserts, take the loot, and scram. Not like we can call the police or anything, since we're kind of on different sides now. Anyway, we'd split the money, donate half to charity and try to make do with what's left. Dave suggested giving back the money to the people who had to pay it, but a loan's still a loan, and anyway, we'd be wiping out their tab. Hopefully, they'll learn not to deal with loan sharks again.

I arrive outside the old guy's place, do my lost girl bit for a minute or so... and nothing. I wasn't sensing an ambush, and the police wouldn't patrol the area for another hour at least. The streets were empty, too. So... why hasn't our good little pedo turned loan shark taken the bait?

I glanced around a bit, then walked up to the door. The moment my fingertip brushed the doorknob, I understood two things. One, the door was open. Two, the fuckin' thing was warm, on the way to hot, and fast. So I shouted around to Dave, to forget the window and follow me right in. I could hear him scamper a bit as I drew a knife and went in.

Oh holy shit. The old man was tied to a chair, in his civvies, which really didn't make for a good image. He was obviously really heavily drugged, otherwise, he'd be screaming as he burned, torn pages of something scattered around his feet, also burning.

Beside me, Dave comes in, exclaims a string of expletives even I hadn't thought to use in such a combination yet, and tugs at my sleeve. Shit, the place was gonna burn down fast, with all these... what exactly was it? I looked down and saw some sick magazine of naked girls so young I shivered. All the torn pages were of a similar vein.

Less than a second after I looked down, Dave had tightened his grip and turned me around. The door, which he had closed behind him on pure instinct bore a plain and simple message: GARBAGE BIN TWO BLOCKS SOUTH.

We got the hell out of there, and just in time. The fire department's sirens were already wailing from a distance... thankfully, from the north. I retrieved the guns we'd hidden and we left the scene. Dave tried to argue against checking the garbage bins two blocks south, but his curiosity - and my persuasiveness - soon outweighed that. In any case, he had no need to worry. The garbage bin had two cases, stuffed with cash.

Someone is fucking with us.

**End of Chapter 4**

* * *

_Author's Note:_

_Wow... I, uh, had this thing, author's note and all, ready to submit to document manager and I... closed the friggin' browser! Drat!_

_Anyway, short version... Had no internet, only got it back for a short bit. Still no promises on update schedule. Also, only gave this chapter a once-over [well, twice-over now since I had to re-up and everything]._

_So, kind of a twist ending. To those who were really hoping for Mindy and Dave to kick ass... well, sorry. Anyway, expect Mindy to be pissed and Dave to be... confused, I guess? We'll see come chapter 5._

_PS_

_Um... Reviews, pretty please? Or I'll tie you up, douse you in kerosene and... Wait, threatening readers for reviews is totally uncool? Drat! Well, let's just say Mindy's 'persuasiveness' compels you._

_Cheers! Or rather... Suit up, kick ass._


	5. Where there's smoke

**Chapter 5**

xXx

**Dave**

Mindy is one really pissed off Hit-girl. She's so pissed she proceeded to march straight back to the apartment on the streets, bag full of money on one hand, half-concealed knife in the other. Of course, she's in civilian clothes, and she's not one I'd worry about, but still. Look, not to sound pervy or anything, but Mindy in those short shorts right now is trouble waiting to happen.

I, of course, had to hide in the back alleys and keep an eye out for police mobiles on the way back. Thankfully, I didn't get into any trouble; best damn thing to happen since yesterday. Let's hope it isn't the highlight of the whole damned, miserable week.

xXx

When Dave entered the house, Mindy was squatting in front of the couch, the money dumped out in front of her. She glanced at him and gestured him to come closer.

"Dump out the money here," she ordered when he got closer.

"Uh... sure," Dave said, and followed her directions.

"Give me the bag," Mindy asked, holding her hand out. She inspected it closely when he did. "No tracking device," she murmured, tossing it aside. "What's the odds these are marked?" she asked, nodding at the money.

"I don't know. Don't you need one of those purple light things?"

"Not with these. They're not marked, Dave. This was left for us. It's not a trap, or at least it isn't meant as one. This is **help**." Mindy spat out the last word.

"What's... what's wrong with that?"

"I don't remember asking anyone for help. But I do remember letting someone in on the plan."

Dave's mind, still churning with everything that's gone on that night, clicked at once. "Whoa. Hey, you think TLO did it?"

Mindy eyed him for a moment before she slid the bag out from under the sofa. "Who else knows the target, the plan and the time we were going? I'm telling you, Dave, it's him."

Dave nodded. Mindy was talking sense. The money had even been left for them. "I... I don't... but why? It makes no sense."

"Who knows? Mindy answered, shrugging as she stowed the guns away like she did every night she took them out. "What's the last thing he said to you earlier?"

"He said he was trying to... trying to catch one."

Mindy gave him a questioning stare, and when Dave didn't pick up on her implied question, she asked him sarcastically, "one what? What is this, pokemon or something?"

"No, no. A maskhunter. He's trying to catch one. I thought that he was way in over his head."

Mindy got a thoughtful look to her but then shook her head. "No, it's unlikely the old guy knew any maskhunters. So then why did he hit our target?"

Dave was silent. He sighed, shaking his head as he went over to start scooping up the wads of bills again. "Look, get some decent clothes on, and help me hide this stuff. There's too much happening. I'll go buy us something to eat and then we'll discuss this, okay?"

Mindy beamed at him. "Sure, yeah. Oh, and Dave?" she added as she headed off to change. "Stop leering at my legs!"

"What?!"

He can hear her giggle as she changed her clothes. "Come on, Dave... You think I don't know what you guys do when some female Facebook friend of yours puts up a slutty picture?"

"Uh..."

Mindy came back out laughing. "I'm just teasing, Dave. Go and buy ...whatever it is they still sell at half past two in the morning." Then she saw the empty look on Dave's face and stopped. "Shit. I shouldn't have said that. Dave, I'm sorry."

Dave just shook his head. "No, it's ok. You're right anyway. We're... we're just not the people we envision ourselves to be." He got up to change.

"I still shouldn't have said that. That's... the past."

Dave barked out a laugh. "Say, Mindy..." he started as he emerged out in casual enough clothes. "These past two years... haven't you ever thought to just... quit?"

"What? Why?"

"Look at me, Mindy. I started doing this for kicks. However much removed from this actual fucked up reality we're in... I **chose **this for myself. You didn't. You could have lived a normal life, Mindy, but then someone else made this choice for you. You could choose something else for yourself; it's not too late yet."

"And what is 'something else' exactly?"

Dave sighed just as he reached the door. "Normal. Removed from all this. Before all this removes you and leaves a shell; a shell that envelops others to live off of them..."

Mindy's eyes widened as the pieces clicked. Waiting for her all these years, all that talk about not being what they envision themselves to be, the hesitation to help her, the authority in his actions to get away from a burning man but the quick backing down of letting her get the money... "Dave," she snapped at him, making him turn around. "You aren't living some sick fantasy off of me or all that's happened. You never did. This is all real to you and I can see that. You're not... turning into him, Dave. OK?"

Dave, staring at the floor, exits the apartment without a word.

xXx

**Mindy**

As I looked around the spartan interior of the place, I realized Dave had a point. About quitting, anyway. Daddy took me, used me as a means for his little 'game', and I was never the same. Anyone would have broken down and quit. Should I have? Does the fact that I'm still Hit-girl mean I'm screwed up, like all those bald, fat psychologists on TV say?

Anyway, the point is moot now. The fact is, this time, it's real. My family's gone, and any distant relatives would have been scared off long ago. I don't even recognize the place I call home anymore. Daddy fed me a bunch of revenge bullshit. Now shit just got real. The bitter irony, huh?

There's no time for 'what if' scenarios... for me. Dave, though... I know what daddy said to him, mostly, about them being just the same. Assholes who liked comic books so much they tried to live them. Except of course, daddy tried to live most of it through me.

I dunno, maybe that line of thought got buried under Dave's brain. Getting your cojones fried tends to leave some details hazy, but two years of solitude and despair can dig out a lot of things from the shit heap in your mind. I know that from experience.

Dave's trying to get me to quit so he can leave this behind. I think he's afraid of what he might become, especially with things the way they are. But... I can't. Even if we took the money and run, what would we do with ourselves? I'm wanted as it is, and running would just mean the nightmares we'd be leaving would creep up on us eventually.

So as much as Dave is the only person right now I can trust or care about, he'll have to fight his own demons. I've got too many of my own. I just hope he doesn't leave me. Disappear like everyone else.

xXx

He smelled like a freakin' barbecue gone wrong. But that was beyond the point. The point was, he had someone interested. But it seems like the wrong sort of someone.

TLO ran, eyes darting every which way. He had had a healthy lead a while back, but he'd hit one too many closed off alleys, dead ends and once even went around in a circle. Goddamn google maps, he grumbled mentally.

This fella behind him was a maskhunter, no doubt, and a hardened one by the looks of things. The man had done exactly what Kick-ass had pointed out a while back - aim right between those shining eyes. Thankfully, he didn't freeze. Regardless of terrain or temperature or which side of the Pacific he was in, he was still quick to see a killshot headed his way. Now if only he was good with these winding back alleys..

The heavy footfalls could be heard not too far behind. But no heavy or rushed breathing. He'd been running what felt like half an hour, both lungs screaming, and he'd just started going through a checklist of his options when he heard the footfalls stop. The calm before the storm; he was familiar with both the real and the proverbial interpretation.

He dove to a side alley to his left. Too late. The first bullet hit him on the right side of his back . The second pinged off the cement somewhere near where his head had been.

The man following him approached the corner cautiously, gun held out ahead of him. When he turned to look, something flew flapping at him, engulfing him in darkness. The man took one hand off his gun to try and tear the jacket away as he fired three shots low.

Not low enough, though. TLO, crouched by his feet, sprang up, sticks at hand. His shoulder collided with the hand holding the gun. The man didn't lose the gun, but he was too distracted and his gun at no position to shoot at anything. He stepped back. TLO jabbed the end of one stick at his face, aiming for an eye.

The man swayed back, barely kept his balance, and brought his gun to bear. TLO crouched down, loosening his grip on his other stick; it slid down and he gripped it tightly again so now most of the length was protruding backward. He used that to block the man's gun hand from aiming down properly and swung the other stick underhand at the man's crotch.

The man grunted in pain, his gun had twitching away. And still, he did not go down. Panting from exertion, TLO hooked the stick he held in reverse behind the man's knee and tugged him down. The man started to go down. TLO looked up, to see the fist crashing down on his head.

Stars. No, not in this smoggy, lit up city. Seeing sparks. He'd been sloppy, paying attention too much to the lower half, forgot the man had another fist and the upper body strength to punch him out. The fact the man was doubled over and about to topple helped him a little; his head crashing off the hard cement certainly didn't. He turned his head to see the man slowly aiming at him.

Damn. He'd thrown most of his tricks at the big lug and he's only down on one knee. TLO had lost both his sticks when his head crashed on the cement; not that they'd do him any good with his fading vision. So he took the only other thing on the ground; his oversized, bulletproof jacket.

Bang. Bang. Bang. Click. Gun empty. Using what was left of his energy, TLO sprang out at the man, one last time. He ate a punch. Good thing the asshole was on one knee and still in pain from the groin attack, or he'd be out. He used the jacket to try and smother the man instead. Got pistol whipped for his trouble.

Lips split. Triple vision, with black dots superimposed over them. Couldn't take much more. Had to find a different way. So he reached down to the vest he was wearing under the jacket; he knew what those pouches contained by memory. Good thing the big lug didn't think to pull one on him.

The man had taken the gun in both hands, held it by the barrel like it was some kind of bludgeon and held it over his head. TLO took the flare out from the pouch, fumbled with the cap and struck it against the ground, immediately swinging it at the man's face.

"Aaargh!" the man shouted at the sudden illumination. Before he could start to flail away with the gun and bludgeon TLO, the flare had already been shoved into his face. TLO looked on, silver eyes reflecting the light as the man's face half-melted. What the hell, he already smelled like a barbecue gone wrong, anyway.

TLO got up to his feet shakily. He took his jacket, took out the rigging that kept it rigid and the tubes where he hid his sticks and put it on the big man backward. It was just big enough that when put on backward, zipped up, and the arms wrapped around the body with the sleeves tied together, it pretty much functioned as a straitjacket.

Finishing that up before the man woke up took some doing, what with the size difference and the damage he'd sustained, but he had bigger problems. He knew the man was the 'wrong sort' not because the man was dangerous - TLO knew dangerous men - but because he knew the man wouldn't talk easily. Still, mission accomplished. Transport was another headache entirely, he thought bitterly.

**End of Chapter 5**

* * *

_Author's Note:_

_First off, sorry for the release delay. Internet connection was nada for the past two weeks or so, and with our country transitioning from summer [high 30's, sometimes low 40's in the centigrade scale on a 'good' day] to the rainy season [ 15-20 mm of rain an hour on a 'good' day] I caught the flu. Also, had some other stuff to work on._

_So, with that said, this might be the only release for a fair bit. My internet's just about nada again, and unless I get a sudden rush, chapter 6 has got to wait until next time. I will try, but don't get your hopes up._

_Anyway, moving on from all that... So, chapter 5. I broke the 2k word barrier yet again, so there's hope that future chapters might go longer [I once wrote a 7.5k word chapter back then for a different story... it sucked though]. Again, no promises, but I understand how frustrating it is to only read 2k words after all the delays. There's a reason I tried to pack in so much this chapter._

_Anyway, if Mindy and Dave seem a little OOC, let me just say, I tried to make them as canon-compliant as possible, but characters have to change after 2 years story-wise. And not all change is good. So what got into my head that I had Dave equating himself into losing it and turning into Damon? Well..._

_I didn't plan this per se, but it kind of took that path and dragged me along. That whole 'maybe it was what I started that was the first domino in this thing' line from chapter 1 suddenly doesn't seem so innocent or baseless now, does it? Or that whole 'started the whole thing to get some twisted sense of validation' thing from the media?_

_Anyway, yeah, it kind of sneaked up on me, even though I had written it in this [grim] direction. I guess you could say that while Dave was excited to get Mindy back, he was more scared. Because even though he had this kinda Revelation thing at the end of KA2 when Mindy sacrificed her freedom for his, 2 years is a lot of time for your head to dig up some nasty shit, like Mindy rightfully says._

_Where this goes, well... we'll see, I guess. Would be a heck of a plot twist if they packed up and left and this is over in 6 chapters, right? Wait, that's copping out? Yeah, guess so..._

_So, moving on... That bit at the end, where TLO [I should just unequivocally retcon that and call him 'Law or something instead, right?] catches his maskhunter? I know it kind of... kills the Mindy-Dave drama, but since this isn't a ship fic [or I swear I'll find me a mighty fuckin' big iceberg] that shouldn't take the fact away that Mindy and Dave have problems that don't need drama. But I digress._

_Now you guys know what kind of tricks he's got hidden. Not all of them, but enough. I gave him as much balance as I can [man, I sound like a game dev] but if he's still too bad-ass for you... Well, otherwise, how would he survive in this crappy version of NY I'd cooked up?_

_Also, I plan to start chapter 6 with Dave and Mindy aagain, so if I had not put this bit in now, it'll get in the way next chapter and delay our main protagonists' current story arc. Can't do that._

_So, this is getting long and, well... cya guys. Drop me a line if y'all need to ask or say something. I appreciate reviews too, just so's I'm not 'driving blind' or anything. I'll get back to ya [if/when my internet is on]._

_Cheers! Or, y'know... suit up, kick ass._


	6. There's fire

**Chapter 6**

xXx

The two of them ate with the low chatter of the television for company. The news broke half an hour earlier, just before Dave arrived with their food. Mindy listened to five seconds of it and shook her head.

"The New York Fire Department assures us the fire is under control. It was after sending some of their men in that the NYPD was called in, as what is now confirmed to be a body was found inside the burnt building. The Chief of the Fire Department has refused comment on the incident and the speculation of arson and perhaps worse that required the PD's presence," a newscaster was recapping as they ate.

Mindy summarized her opinion of their current predicament with one word: "Shit."

Dave nodded sympathetically. He'd been more himself since the trip out for food. "I don't get why he had to burn the old man," he grumbled. Who he meant by 'he' neither of them decided to argue on.

Mindy, who'd finished eating, chuckled. "Let's hope they don't fish my fingerprints somehow from the charred remains. Maybe that's what he was going for."

Dave's eyes narrowed and he shook his head. "The only thing you touched was the doorknob. My gloves should have wiped your prints. But come on, if he can get there before us, take the cash, rip out the evidence he did and then do that to the old man, how can he forget to wear gloves?"

Mindy chuckled again. "Your friend's gloves are fingerless, Dave. My guess is, it helps him control those sticks better. But still, it's not like he just found some kerosene or whatnot lying around. No, he intended to burn the old man and the place, too."

Dave sighed. "I think you're right. Shit!"

"It's ok, Dave. He's no Marty or Todd, but he's no Red Mist either. At least so far."

Dave chuckled at that. "Well, he's far better than those three, to begin with."

"Todd and Marty were good enough distraction to help me with that Russian bitch."

"Right, right... So what do we do now?"

"Well, first, you turn that shit off because that newscaster looks pissed off at his timeslot. Then we talk."

"Fair enough." Dave turned the television off, set his half-eaten food aside, and turned to face her. "Ok, go."

"Well, just so's we're clear, I'll just start by saying that I'm not quitting. I guess you already knew that."

Dave nodded grimly. "Sure. I... well, I never really thought I could get you to stop."

"Well... are you? Quitting, I mean?"

"I don't know. I'm still torn up over right and wrong and whether I have a say one way or the other. That sounds kind of juvenile, right?"

Mindy smiled and shook her head. "No. It sounds like the old you, Dave. You want to do the right thing the right way. It was always you with the ideals."

"Yeah, well, look where that got me."

"Dave... This; what you're feeling, it's just your head. Survivor's guilt, if you like. You can't second-guess yourself."

"Can't I? Damn it, Mindy, I don't know how my father feels about that. I swore to him I'd quit."

"How do you think my mother felt, Dave? Hm? Fuck! Mindy is born, then Damon fuckin' swoops in and poof, Mindy's gone. Then Mindy's back, shit happens, you get bullets sent to your house then poof, suddenly there are dead men in your house. I swore I'd quit, too, Dave. Fat lot of good it did me."

"I pulled you back in. All those times at school, asking, begging you to join us, **please**. Justice Forever is so cool and with you in it, we'd just be so awesome and unstoppable and shit."

Mindy rolled her eyes. "Yeah, right. Dave, I wanted those cunts done with just as much as you did. I never really... came back. At least you got to apologize to your father. I don't think Marcus got my apology to my mother."

Dave closed his eyes, shaking his head. "Damn, it, Mindy, why did it have to go like this? I just wanted to help people when I started. "

Mindy got a look in her eyes. Dave would have said it was the same look she had when she saved him from the rooftop. "Dave, you started this. I'm not going to lie to you about that. But someone saw what you started and they pissed their pants. Don't you understand, Dave? They're afraid of what you started, so they set to take it down. If you quit now, they win. They win, and even if you run, they'll be two steps behind you."

"Scared? Of me? I'd say they were scared of you."

"No. Dave, why do you think all those people agreed to help us? Some of them had been put in jail before, and they showed up anyway. You showed them that they didn't need to be me to make a change."

Dave looked at Mindy and smiled. Mindy, half relieved and half bewildered, smiled back. "Thanks, Mindy. I... I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Doofus! You've been here without me for two years."

"Let me repay you okay?"

Mindy's eyes widened. "Uh... sorry?" she asked, hand digging under the sofa's cushion beside her.

Dave broke out laughing. "Just... Can we, uh, go somewhere tomorrow night? Well, later tonight..."

"Shit. Are you asking me out?"

Dave shook his head. "No, nothing like that. Just, trust me, ok?"

Mindy looked down at him for another five seconds before she nodded and pulled her hands back, the knife left underneath the sofa cushion.

xXx

**Mindy**

Both of us were in civilian clothing. Dave had his costume and everything else in a backpack. I'd worn something more decent, so I could comfortably hide all my weapons on me. The journey there was... surreal. A taxi ride, after all these years, skulking around the streets and alleys or jumping on rooftops.

Dave had the driver drop us off a bit of a ways off our destination. He's learned some things in the two years, has Dave. We had to go the rest of the way on foot. Then it was time to jump over a fence again.

Yes, jumping over a fence. A cemetery fence. No, not even Dave is dumb enough to ask a girl out to a cemetery in the middle of the night. And then we were there. My mother's grave.

It's a marked difference from daddy's. He was buried in an unmarked grave. There was no name on his headstone, just year of birth and death, so I would recognize it.

Mom's was, well, normal. There's her name, dates of birth and death... and the epitaph. _'A loving and forgiving mother'_ it said.

I lost it. The next thing I knew, I was on my knees, Dave holding on to me as I cried my eyes out. He wasn't saying or doing anything else, just holding me as I let it all go. Eventually, I was done.

Dave got up, brushed his pants off and helped me to my feet. We stood there for a minute, not really doing anything. Praying, maybe. Then it was time to go.

We were just over the fence when Dave's phone rang. He pulled it out, read the message and passed it on to me. The message from TLO was _'same place'._

xXx

TLO was under the harsh light of the bare bulb overhead. He was standing almost casually, hands in his jacket's pockets. Dave approached him with a muttered greeting, Mindy slightly behind him, her face covered in shadows.

"Haayh guisehh. [hi guys]" TLO's silver eyes flicked from one displease faced to another. "Ssorri. [sorry]"

Dave glanced down at Mindy, who didn't seem to care at all about the lisp and he addressed his friend instead. "Was it you?"

TLO sighed and nodded. "Ayym ssorry, [I'm sorry]" he repeated.

"I feel you owe us an explanation."

"Aayh do. Bbut... Yuu deshide... [I do. But... You decide.]"

Dave glanced at Mindy again, who only nodded. "Decide what?"

"Aayh coh-kho-cau..." TLO growled in frustration "I... caught... one..." he said slowly.

"You caught a maskhunter? No shit."

TLO gently lowered his hood so they can see his brutalized face. "He... deed..." He sighed and tried again. "Did... this."

"Damn. Did you get stitches on your lips?"

TLO nodded. He pointed at the lower lip and held up four fingers, then pointed at the upper lip and held up three. "Mom... was... pissed," he said, shrugging.

"I'd imagine," Dave replied, still digesting the new information in his head.

"Where's he?" Mindy asked.

"Some-where... safe..."

"Let's go, then."

"I... could... gee - ghi - give... you... guys... a ride."

Mindy's eyebrows rose at that and she shot Dave a look to shut him up before he mentioned the Mist Mobile. "A ride?"

"Well... has to... be... one... at a... time. And... Kick-ass... here... can't... be... seen in... public."

"How's that?" Dave asked. Beside him, Mindy had a knowing grin already.

"Ever... ridden... double? On a... motorbike?"

xXx

TLO's motorbike was one of those motocross bikes, except modified slightly for purposes he didn't explain. It was a dull grey, with the usual dirt and scratch marks on the paintjob. It was slightly big for his frame, but should accommodate him and a passenger with ease.

"You just ride around the city on this?" Dave asked.

TLO nodded. "Some... of the... time. If I... have to. People... wear... weird... shit... here. My... jacket... looks... normal... enough. It... gets me... out of... trouble... most... times..."

"So I go first with you then you come back for Min - er - Hit-girl?" Dave asked. He earned a glare from Mindy just on principle when he almost tripped over his own tongue and said her real name.

"What-ever... works... for... you two."

Dave shrugged, not one to spoil what seemed a simple enough opportunity. "Kick-ass, give me your phone," Mindy piped up. Dave gave her a questioning look but handed it to her. "Good. When you guys arrive, he sends me a message from your phone. We've established a safe word already," she told TLO.

TLO nodded. He got on the motorbike, and didn't see Dave give Mindy his 'utterly-out-of-my-depth' look. Mindy glanced to make sure TLO still hadn't looked back to see why Dave hadn't gotten on yet, and flashed the phone's screen at Dave, who nodded.

"You... ready... over... there?" TLO finally asked when the engine roared to life.

"Um... Yeah..." Dave said in a totally unconvincing voice as he gave Mindy a terrified look. Mindy, who was smirking wide enough to give the Joker temporary pause, made a hugging gesture. Dave rolled his eyes and resigned himself to the ridicule. Then they were off.

It was thirty minutes before Mindy received the text message: _CROATOA._ Ten minutes later, TLO was back.

"Took you long enough," she opined as he took one look back before wheeling the vehicle around.

"Yeah... Had to... stick to... back... alleys. We can... take... the... normal... road... instead."

That made sense. Dave was dressed as Kick-ass, whereas Mindy looked like a normal girl. "You understand I would have killed a warehouse of thugs trying to - I dunno - set him on fire maybe, if I didn't get that text?"

"Yeah."

"Good." Mindy pocketed the phone and gave the motorbike a momentary look. "Do you ride fast?"

"Not... really. Why?"

"Can you go fast this once?" Mindy asked, remembering those times she had to get home fast on her purple motorbike.

TLO shrugged. He unzipped his jacket and turned to Mindy, showing her a pair of metal loops in front of his vest. "These... are... in case... I... have to... rappel... down. Hold... on... tight."

Mindy nodded. "Fair enough."

xXx

**Dave**

It was weird. Not the torture, or at least, not exactly. I'd been tortured, I'd seen Mindy do it. It was just... everything else, you know?

When we got there, TLO warned me not to get within five feet of the captive, who I had not really had a good look at. He did this by writing down on a piece of paper, in full view of the faintly struggling captive. It was weird, how bad-ass that vibe is, the whole 'we're talking about what to do with you, but you won't hear our voices' thing. Of course, in TLO's case, it's because talking was a right pain in the ass.

I nodded, and he gave me his phone so I could send Mindy the safe word. Good move on her part, but ultimately it spoke of the distrust that still stood between them. Then TLO was gone to fetch her.

I decided to spend the intervening minutes to get a good measure of the guy TLO caught. Well, I took one look at his face and almost instantly felt sick to my stomach. Damn, what did these two do to each other?

Question didn't linger long in my mind. Not that I really wanted it to, either. In any case, TLO got back rather quickly, Mindy looking quite exhilarated as she dismounted. It seems they were going fast enough that TLO had to give her a couple handholds. Mindy took one look at the captive and for a moment a look of concern flashed on her face.

You'll have to forgive me for not telling you what they did. Just that it involved a small hammer and a chisel and left quite a mess afterward. The man's name was irrelevant, as Mindy - who was doing the questioning owing to TLO's temporary speech impairment - never even once asked it. Everything else he told us - after a fashion - was.

First, he wasn't supposed to be working alone. He was about to meet up with two more guys in a day or so, but spotted TLO sneaking around, looking a little out of sorts. He took one look at those shining eyes - they're contacts, by the way; TLO took them off before the interrogation - and it went downhill from there. According to him, he and the other guys were approached separately by a middleman. Apparently, there are many other such middlemen acting like recruiters for the 'purging' of New York's last remaining masks.

It was there we hit a dead end. The middle man was supposed to meet the three of them and only then give them more money - downpayment was paid up front - for operating costs as well as giving them more concrete orders. He didn't know the middleman by name or appearance, nor the person - or people - funding the entire operation, if any. He didn't know who the other two guys were, nor any of the other maskhunters. He did admit to knowing who Hit-girl and I are, though neither of our names ever popped up when he was being recruited.

Then there's his background. No, he wasn't former Spetsnaz or something - thank goodness. He was from south of the border. No, not Mexican or anything, just happened to be from that part of the continent. He saw the chance to get out of being the - admittedly cliche - drug cartel hired muscle and get to the bright lights of NY.

Bad luck he got a gun through customs, then. Bad luck he spotted TLO, who was still gathering his thoughts about him after roasting a man. Bad luck TLO was more prepared when he pulled the gun. Worse luck that Mindy was at hand. By the time Mindy was satisfied we'd gotten as much out of him as we could, he was sort of chanting _Madre de dios _under his breath, looking catatonic.

Really, there's not much else to say.

**End of Chapter 6**

* * *

_A/N:_

_Sorry for the know how this part works. I apologize, I give reasons, then I get on with the chapter. Just one thing to add: periodic updates are on my admittedly spartan profile. Anyway, without further ado..._

_Chapter 6. Had trouble with this when I had to transition from emotional!Mindy to that part where they meet up with TLO [the nickname stays for the moment]. More on that later._

_I understand 'survivor's guilt' is rather played out, but it fit well enough. Also, it's rather true; before that big battle in Times Square, Dave was at his father's funeral, swearing to everyone he'd quit. He was rather crushed by losing his dad that way [well, who wouldn't?]. Seeing as Mindy lost her mother in this story's continuity, and that she never really got to say sorry face to face, I guess you could say I just hit two birds with one stone._

_Now, onward. Yes, that part where Dave is ambiguously asking Mindy somewhere without blowing the surprise seems kind of 'ship-ish' or 'fluffy' if you like. I'm more than happy with how it turned out, and no, I'm not shipping them [how many time have I said that?]. Also, even though Mindy says it was Dave holding on to her, she really doesn't remember, so it could have been either of them who acted first. Of course, keeping it ambiguous like this gives me leeway just in case the second movie shows me where this Mindy-Dave spark comes from and I start shipping them by book two or whatnot. But don't bet on it, Mindy-Dave shippers._

_Now, as far as I know [KA1 #8 and HG #1] we do see Damon's headstone [Or whatever you wanna call it. I didn't call it tombstone because it sounds weird to an Undertaker fan like me; 'The Last Outlaw' name is inspired by the angle they ran when he and HHH had that 'end of an era' Wrestlemania match]. Where was I? Right, Damon's headstone is only seen from the side, so I took that and ran right away with it. Now, if I have to explain the message on Mindy's mom's headstone, then imagine me facepalming. Incidentally, does Mindy's mom have a name, or will I have to keep referring to her as 'Mindy's mom'? Hm..._

_I wanted to make the damage TLO took appreciable in this chapter, but I didn't think a closeup recounting of every inch of messed up flesh would be appropriate. So instead his speech is messed up for a while due to getting pistol whipped right on the kisser. I understand it's kind of awkward to read his dialogue, and he's really still lisping even when he speaks slowly, but you'll forgive me for not typing out each 'sssh' and whatnot, I hope. Needless to say, I didn't give you much info on their interrogation, either._

_Some more details... If you watch/read Naruto, imagine TLO's vest to be like those that Jounin wear, but with more secure pouches/pockets and the aforementioned metal ring thingies [my research only goes so far what with the lack of net time] to secure a harness to. Akso, no, TLO doesn't have helmets._

_Last couple things. If you don't get the CROATOA shout-out, then that means you've never read 100 bullets. And that's... that's just sad. Mindy's reference to 'a warehouse of thugs ready to set him on fire' is a callback to TLO's rather extreme methods as well as to that warehouse rescue from the first movie [now switch to kryptoniiiiiiite! XDD]._

_PS_

_I might just ship Mindy and every motorbike she sees. AFAIK, it was one of those things that had Chloe Moretz [who plays Mindy/Hit-girl] so set on doing KA2 [though that could just be an inside joke from the interviews] and of course it was in the Hit-girl mini-series._

_Cheers y'all. Suit up, kick ass._


	7. Chapter Title Pending

**Chapter 7**

xXx

TLO was off getting rid of his gloves as Mindy mulled over the information - whatever little of it - they had. She had discarded her gloves earlier and went right to Dave, who was looking a little green - well, greener.

"We didn't get much, did we?" Mindy asked. Her tone was not disappointment, and was rather conversational, as though trying to soothe her partner.

Dave, who recorded the whole thing - audio only - shook his head. "No, not really. But it's something."

Mindy nodded. "Yeah, guess you could say that. Fuckin' pity this middleman douchebag was careful, though. Well, they did have two years to get it somewhat right."

The two of them turned as TLO returned, donning his jacket again. He paused for a moment to put his contacts back on and took the pen and paper he used earlier. _'What next?' _he wrote down.

Dave just shrugged and handed the recorder to Mindy. "I'd like a copy of this," she said.

_'No problem._ _You pick the time and place so I can drop it off.'_

Mindy thought for a moment. "Well, it won't be for another two weeks or so," she said.

"What?" Dave blurted out.

"Jeez, relax, Kick-ass," Mindy said. "We're just moving out of our place, getting re-settled and training for a bit. Plus, I have to get my costume made and then shipped anyway."

"Right..." Dave agreed. "How, though?" he added.

_'I thought you had a costume?'_ TLO wrote.

Mindy rolled her eyes. "Yes, and it went out of fashion so I'm not wearing it any more,"

she snapped.

_'I mean, you had an earlier version. All you need are come current measurements and you can be refitted for a new costume in a week or so.'_

Mindy glanced at Dave, who shrugged. "I ordered my costume online like always," he said.

"Dave's right. No one in this city would even think about making me a costume. The police would lean on them, not to mention these maskhunters."

_'Someone made my costume,' _TLO reasoned.

That was right, Mindy realized. He'd only started a year or so ago. The custom-made gear had to be made specifically for him. "You know someone who can make my costume in the city?" she asked.

_'More or less. They take the measurements, design input and whatever requests you have for customization here. I think the finished products themselves are shipped in from somewhere else.'_

"Sounds expensive."

TLO shrugged. _'You only need to pay the down payment. What you can't pay, just put it on my tab.'_

"You have a tab?" Dave asked.

_'I sort of outgrow my costumes fast.'_

"Why would you help me?" Mindy asked him.

_'Least I could do. I'm not much for making amends. Consider it a "getting out" gift.'_

Mindy looked at Dave, who nodded. "Fine. You're sure we can trust these people?"

_'They used to make all kinds of stuff. Halloween, cosplay, some fetish stuff, even a disguise or two if you're on the run.'_

Mindy raised an eyebrow but kept silent. She nodded and TLO scribbled the address down and handed it to her.

After that, they had to ride out again.

xXx

Mindy and Dave got out of the taxi, paid and tipped the driver, and watched the cab drive away before they backtracked a little. Dave was wearing his backpack again, this time with Mindy's ill-fitting costume and the money they had left inside. It had taken them the better part of the past two weeks to move and get used to the new neighborhood. Today, they were going to get Mindy fitted for her new costume.

They stopped in front of a store that simply said CostumeRentals. Dave double-checked the address and nodded at Mindy. They went around the store, following the small note written at the bottom of the paper TLO gave Mindy: knock on the back door.

Dave only had to knock twice before the door opened. A woman ushered them in wordlessly and closed the door again as soon as they got in.

"Good morning," she greeted them. "What have we today?" she asked as she looked them over.

"Right, um, a friend recommended this place to us," Dave replied. "His name's John."

The woman looked unimpressed. "I know many Johns, boy."

Dave grinned foolishly. "Oh, sorry. It's John Michael... uh... He didn't give us his last name," he finished sheepishly.

The woman nodded. "Yes, I see. You're right, he doesn't give his last name away easily, but I guess none of you do." Dave and Mindy exchanged a look, but she just grabbed a clipboard and a pen. "Is it both of you?" she asked them.

"Just me," Mindy replied.

"I see, I see. Name?"

"Mindy," Mindy replied. When the woman looked at her expectantly, she looked at Dave who could only shrug. "Mindy MacCready," she supplied.

"**The **Mindy, then?" the woman asked as she noted it down.

"Uh... yeah."

"You had a prior costume."

Mindy nodded as Dave took her old costume out. The woman made him unfold it for inspection.

"You want it changed?" the woman asked Mindy as she took notes and did a rough sketch.

"No."

The woman nodded. "Very well." She grimaced as she added the cape to the sketch. "Let's get you measured up," she said, leading Mindy to a small fitting room.

It turned out measurements take up more time than they thought. All the while, Dave could hear the chatter of the normal customers out front.

xXx

Dave carried the backpack, several thousand dollars lighter. Beside him, Mindy was idly twirling her hair with her finger. "The measuring sure took you a while," he said.

"Huh? Oh, yeah."

"So, back in a week, right?"

Mindy nodded. She followed him as they took a series of turns through the back alleys, emerging in a different block before hailing a cab.

"We're almost out," Dave whispered to her as they settled in the seat.

"Only another week 'til we're back. We'll be fine."

Dave shrugged. The ride back didn't take long, though Mindy had them stop halfway through to buy something. They alighted a few streets from where they lived and went home.

xXx

**Dave**

Sore. Mindy celebrated the arrival of her costume by whupping my ass. Though that could just be her frustration that she still couldn't go out in-costume for the next two nights or so.

Ok, so I'm really supposed to be getting better. Well, I am bigger and stronger now, but then so is she. And all that nerve damage has actual drawbacks. Back then they didn't matter much, but now the millisecond that it costs for reflexes to kick in is the difference between Kick-ass and a corpse in a green wetsuit.

Not feeling pain too much sounds good in theory, but tell me that when you have a fast-moving purple blur making a punching bag out of you. The body reacts to pain; you get used to less pain, your reflexes get sluggish. Sluggish is not a description that fits Mindy, even after two years, even if she got cramps halfway through sparring.

But enough about that. She says I'll get better, so there's that. I'm going out alone just to get the recording and get a sense of what's been happening since we laid low three weeks ago.

xXx

Deciding that meeting at the same place again was pushing their luck too far, Dave and TLO agreed to meet on a random rooftop. TLO was already sitting on a non-functional air-conditioning unit when Dave arrived.

"Hey," Dave greeted his friend.

"Hey," TLO greeted back.

"So you're fine now?" Dave asked.

"Yeah. Healed up ok. You?"

"A little sore. She insisted on sparring," Dave explained.

TLO nodded "She out running recon or something?" he asked, now that Hit-girl's absence has been highlighted.

"Uh, no. It's, uh... her time of the month."

TLO nodded. "I see. Her costume turn out ok?"

"Oh, yeah. Thanks for that, by the way."

"Don't mention it."

Dave sighed. "Why is every other superhero I meet way better than me?"

"How's that?"

"Mindy's better than me. Justice Forever had members better than me. Heck, you're better than me. All I ever had to my name was a youtube video."

TLO laughed. "Dave, not every superhero is the same. It takes more than just ass-kicking ability to be a superhero, anyway. Somewhere down the line, you chose to be a superhero and you haven't gone back on that. That's all that really matters."

Dave shrugged. "Guess so. But I'd still like to be able to do what you guys do."

TLO's voice darkened. "Dave, it... it takes an extraordinary background to be like this. It's... it's not something you'd wish on anyone, let alone yourself. Ask yourself what Mindy went through, what all those other guys from Justice Forever went through."

Dave's shoulders slumped. Right. Mindy wasn't exactly the poster child for a happy childhood. Heck, former mafia men started Justice Forever. "What did you go through?" he asked TLO.

"Let's just say my father and his friends were running around on mountains training kids like me how to overthrow a government."

"You're shitting me. You're some kind of resistance fighter?"

TLO chuckled. "Not much of a resistance. Slightly better as a fighter, all things considered. In any case, my mother went out of her way to get me back when my father took half a dozen five-five-sixes. Took me here where that shit can't get me. Not that these things leave you, of course."

Dave was silent as he digested that. He'd suddenly wished he had Mindy with him; she'll read between the lines at once and tell him what he's missing. Instead, he just got on with business. "Um, well, that sounds morbid."

"It kind of is. But, well, it wasn't exactly smart, either. Like I said, we're fair enough fighters, but the resistance itself..." he shrugged.

"So... you didn't start doing this because..."

"Because I found a new cause?" TLO shook his head. "No. I actually rather liked this place. But, well, shit happens."

"I see. Well, uh, I have to get back to Hit-girl..."

TLO nodded. "Yeah, I know. Tell her I said 'hi'. Here's the recording." He handed a plastic case with a microSD card inside to Dave.

"I'll pass it along. Thanks."

"Oh, and Dave? I'm shadowing someone. Acting suspicious, meeting with men very briefly, changing hotels every thee days, that kind of thing."

Dave nodded.

**End of Chapter 7**

* * *

_Yes, that is the end of chapter 7, told the 'storybook' way. However, if you'll notice, there's a rather stark cut as soon as Mindy goes into the fitting room. You get two throwaway lines about Dave then it cuts to them leaving the store. Well, that's because I didn't know what to do with this part of the narrative just below._

_You see, there's no story, or much character development or any tangible way this part moves the story forward. It's just exposition and a *gasp* very polite and somewhat reserved I had the brilliant brainwave to make it a Mindy scene. This works well for presentation with very few nagging problems, but it still doesn't allow me to stick it right there in the middle without it all becoming awkward, so here it is, 'extra content' style..._

* * *

**Mindy**

She ushered me into the surprisingly roomy fitting room while Dave found a stool to sit on. I'm not too happy she didn't introduce herself but demanded my whole name. Then again, I'd better have a costume, because Hit-girl has to be Hit-girl. And I know where she lives, so there's that.

"How old are you?" she asks, her voice breaking my train of thought.

"14."

"I see." She notes it down on her clipboard. "Raise your arms to either side. That's it," she hums as I oblige and she starts to do the measuring.

"You're measuring me with my clothes on?" I asked, a little confused. I thought there was a reason the fitting rooms were private.

"I'll need to adjust these measurements later on, give a fraction of an inch here and there to allow growing children to... grow. These measurements will do very well. Of course you're aware of your chest measurements?"

"Yes," I replied a little too quickly, blushing.

She laughed. "Oh, dear. Pardon me. What is it?"

I stayed silent. Stupid, stupid... I wanted to grab my head and shake it silly, but I was still being measured, so that wasn't an option.

"Ah, yes. You are rather well put together, Mindy. Given what you do, one would think not having such big... burdens would be the better alternative. A girl can hardly hope to look like those wish fulfillment stereotypes in the comic books, now can she?"

"You... you read comics?" I asked, rather surprised. She didn't look the type.

"Why, before these ridiculous bans were passed into law, I was making them for seemingly every other party. I had to be familiar with my customer base's wishes."

"I see."

"Now if you could just, ah, spread your legs a bit wider apart. Yes, dear," she answered my look of incredulity. "You holster on either side, yes?"

"Yeah..."

"Then we better measure each leg specifically. Can't afford for them to snag. Ask John, he wanted a rigged jacket, of all things, he can tell you how important it is that it does not snag. Why would you rig a jacket, I had not cared to ask."

"You do it to conceal a smaller frame than one would expect for the jacket's size. Makes it easier to conceal motion under the jacket; the enemies see the jacket move a fraction of a second later than you actually do, and you have an advantage. Enemies also tend to overcompensate and then fall off-balance when a hit connects with your clothes but not with you..." I quickly shut up when I realize I was starting to go on a completely long-winded exposition. "Sorry."

She just smiled at me. "You're smart, too. Quite a difference from your, ah, current public image. But we'll leave the media hyping to pop stars and over-exposed reality starlets, shall we?"

I grinned at that one. "Hell yes."

"Good," she hummed again as she measured... around my face, between my eyes and the length of my hair. I was about to ask a question when she asked me one of her own. "Are you planning on cutting or growing out your hair, dear?"

"Uh, I'll probably trim it a little," I answered, then remembered I was wearing a wig and a mask with my costume. "Oh," I added.

"Now, I think that about covers..." she checked the clipboard. "Pretty much 99% of it." She gave me a thin, tall stool she grabbed from outside the door. "Do you have time for a short chat?"

I shrugged. "Sure."

As I sat down - and she stayed upright - she lifted a strand of my hair. "You should think of dyeing this," she said, turning it every other way to look at how the light struck it.

I almost shuddered at the thought. Blonde hair was one of the few things my mother left me with. Daddy's was brown. "Why?" I almost whispered.

She sighed. "Dear, I knew who you were the second I saw you. Most people might not, but I live on details, and other, more sinister elements, do, too. The police surely have a few people to give them your current description. Now, we can't change how you look, or your build, but if you change hair colors, that could help you against observers who don't do well with details."

"Really?"

"Dear, this is New York. People learn to not care much for everyone they meet. By the time your hair color registers, the next person will be sliding into view. If they're looking for a blonde 14 year-old, a brunette or redhead will slip past their notice."

"I see. I'll, uh, think about it." I paused then asked,"If you knew who I was, why did you ask for my name?"

"To see if you'll trust me enough to give me the real one."

"And if I didn't..?"

"Then I would have said that even though your friend is a valued patron and I appreciate the referral, that it would be unfair of me to make you compromise your safety and privacy."

"But you could get into trouble."

"People are always getting into trouble," she said, nonchalant. "Now, you are sure you'll keep the cape?"

My eyebrows rose. "Uh, yeah, I guess so."

She sighed. "I see. Well, then, one last bit of business," she said, handing the clipboard and pen to me. "Chest measurements."

I blushed again at the reminder. "Right..." I took the clipboard and hastily scrawled the required figures.

She merely nodded as she read them. "Good. I'll have the costumes back in a week. Six is the usual order, at least that's how many John orders..."

"Six sounds good," I replied. I figured I got this far, right? Even Dave had a backup and I figured mine would see more wear and tear than his costume does.

She scrawled that last bit on the clipboard. "Now, your chest and torso will be rather padded, so wear something that has good support and try not to get hit in the chest too much." She offered her hand. I shook it.

* * *

_A/N:_

_And that's where Chapter 7 officially ends. Not the way I thought I'd end up uploading this chapter, but hey, I'm only human. Now, notes..._

_Chapter's 2700 'words' give or take. So again, fair enough length, bad update speed. Again, my sincerest apologies. Please, do tell me how I'm doing. Constructive criticism is appreciated, and so is a little sarcasm._

_Anyway, on with the story itself. Had to rack my brains on a portion of this, because Mindy isn't the needy kind of girl at all. But the thing is, like she says Hit-girl should stay as Hit-girl and truth be told, Mindy is a bit of a 'girl' in relation to gifts and whatnot in that she accepts them openly. Of course, this is only mentioned briefly in HG but, meh, it's canon-compliant and that's all I need for it to work._

_Now, the woman who make their costumes [well, Mindy's and John's] I kind of patterned after the woman who made the Incredibles' costumes. Right down to her not liking capes. Of course, as pointed out earlier, HG is HG, so the cape stays. The costume I'd not need to describe in detail of course, but I like the movie version better, so if you like, you can envision it looking like that instead of the comicbook counterpart._

_Also, got down to one of Dave's [not-so-]many hangups. I mean, he's fine against a couple street thugs and obviously he beat Chris twice, but Chris is a wuss, right, ladies and gentlemen? But Mindy is a whole other level, even after 2 years, and let's face it, part of the superhero charm is their ability to dole out 'heroic punishment'. Or sustained and brutal beatings [wait, no, that's Ennis' Punisher, sorry]_

_But, then, this is lampshaded in the HG mini-series after they set up the Russians and Sicilians then Mindy murders them all [saving Dave in the bargain]. Dave says he's more the old school public service kind of hero, not the dark and gritty style. So there's that. I'm not wussifying him, and I'm not trying to make him irrelevant in an obviously dark and gritty story. But, hey, that's for next chapter's Mindy-Dave talks. Sorry._

_Oh, and TLO's background. Now, I've had a chance to rethink this and almost copped out to some crappy half-assed reveal, but this one is here to stay. His background's up next chapter, but not why John started being TLO. That'll take a few more chapters._

_Last thing. I regret nothing. Only my update schedules and inability to flesh this out further. But whatevs. Anything I forgot to include, I'll remember, list down, and add to next chapter's author's note._

_See y'all next chapter. Suit up, kick ass._


End file.
